


The Bijou

by Sherloqued



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: AU, Favorite Eras, Multi, Prohibition, Roaring Twenties, The Great Gatsby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7693477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherloqued/pseuds/Sherloqued
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ennis del Mar is one of several cattle wranglers for a Montana rancher, who as part of their duties accompany cattle for delivery to the Chicago stockyards by rail car in the 1920's, and who also has an appreciation for music.    After receiving his paycheck and a bonus for a job well done, and with a little extra money in his pocket, he decides to spend a few more days in the city.   Over time, these trips lead to meeting Jack Twist, an aspiring jazz musician, also originally from the West.   This is the story of their developing friendship and romance, and a chance at a different life in a changing world, which takes them to many interesting places - Chicago, New York, London, Paris and Berlin, and elsewhere in Europe - and back again to Lightning Flat, Wyoming.  Inspired by The Great Gatsby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 ♦♦♦

 

Chicago, Illinois, 1924 - Prohibition  
  
_"Michigan Avenue in The Loop, between 4th and 5th, a block from Jewelers Row."_  
  
He could hear piano music coming from one of the open upper-story windows.  Ennis del Mar glanced again at the crumpled note in his hand to confirm the scribbled address, and then back up to the door, and his lanky legs took the stairs to Jack's four-story walk-up apartment nearly two at a time, so anxious to see Jack, at his new friend's casual invitation.   He knocked on the door, slightly out of breath; and Jack's voice called out, _"It's open!"_     During their conversation at the club that night, he learned of a serendipitous coincidence from Lorraine Newsome and his glamorous new acquaintances; it turned out that he and Jack had both been born in Wyoming, but from opposite corners of the state; Jack from Lightning Flat up on the Montana border, Ennis del Mar from around Sage, near the Utah line.  
  
He found a delightfully disheveled Jack in a rumpled tuxedo shirt and trousers, bow tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, his usually Brilliantine-glossed, parted dark hair now falling forward a bit and a pencil behind his ear, sitting at the baby grand piano - the lid raised.   It dominated the room.  He looked like he'd been up all night writing feverishly, sheet music and an open bottle of what was most probably 'Calgary Springs' bootleg Canadian rye whisky alongside a drained crystal glass - and on the small table nearby, black onyx and gold cuff links and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts.   It was 11 am.   Jack's neighbors were a restaurant on the first two floors and what looked to be a couple of retail establishments, a jeweler.  His momentary curiosity about how Jack got that piano up to the top floor and pity for whoever had done it was satisfied; it was by freight elevator.  
  
Jack looked up at Ennis and smiled, his bright blue eyes gave the impression of an active mind.  
  
"Say, listen to this, would ya?"  he said, running his fingers up the keys, playing a scale with a happy flourish, the notes almost asking a question.   "I've been working on it all night.   Haven't got a title for it yet though."  
  
"Don't you people ever sleep?"   Ennis inquired, laughing.    The city's pace and energy took some getting used to for a rural, small-town boy.  Seemed there always was a party somewhere, and the parties seemed to go on forever.    Jack as an up-and-coming jazz musician, either solo or as part of the band The Wolverines Orchestra, was either at or heard about most of them, and he knew some of the most interesting people.  
  
Jack didn't answer, just pressed his foot down on the damper pedal and proceeded to play what Ennis thought was probably the most beautiful piece of music he had ever heard; soft and restful notes filled the rooms, notes that seemed to rise to the top of the high ceilings and then tumble down a mountainside.  
  
'It's swell, Jack.  Really swell."  
  
"Tell that to my old man."   Jack blithely said.   "He wasn't too happy that I decided to drop out of school to become a musician full time.  Considers me a complete disappointment."    Jack winked at Ennis and grinned.  Ennis would be saddened to learn that Jack's parents had never heard his music, that such talent had gone unappreciated.    Jack seemed not to care, but Ennis wondered if there wasn't more to it.  
  
_tbc_


	2. The Reluctant Bootlegger

1923 - Montana Hi-Line

  
He checked his watch and relaxed into his seat; the train would be at the station soon.  It powerfully rumbled and slowed over the train tracks and between that and the steam, smoke and loud whistle it all sounded like a grand and imposing symphony, where the Great Northern Plains met the Chicago skyline.   He loved the sight of it, no matter how many times he saw it.  
  
He looked down at his big, nicked hands with their grimy fingernails and realized he needed to take a bath.  He could do that at his hotel.  For now, he'd have to make do with washing up in the restroom at the next stop, where they would stop to let the cattle and horses graze and drink in the nearby pastureland.   He had a change of clothes and a good suit in his travel case, for when he would stay in Chicago for a few days.  
  
Joe Aguirre, his boss, had gotten into the bootleg whiskey business to make some money on the side, and business was good.  Ennis was a little skittish at first.  Y _ou ain't gotta do nothin', nothin' but make sure my stock gets there in good shape.  That's it.  Goes without sayin' to keep the rest of it on the QT.  That's all you gotta do._ Aguirre had assured him.   At least that was how it all had started.  Plus, he got a damn good bonus for doin' it.   So Ennis relaxed.   Nothin' good could come from keeping a man from his whiskey anyway.    He patted the Colt revolver in its holster at his hip for added insurance.  
  
No police or government agent or thief would be willing to search through the bales of hay and wade through piles of cowshit to find the hidden bottles and barrels, to say nothing of the forbiddingly rugged terrain; and any of them who did try had to be encouraged to look the other way, by whatever means necessary, all along the route, until it ultimately arrived at the distributors in Chicago.  
  
Summer, 1924 - Chicago's North Shore and Lake Forest Summer Home  
  
They were curious about him.  He'd heard Lorraine conspiratorially whispering and giggling with Jack as waiters in white dinner jackets poured from what appeared to be endless magnums of champagne, and he later found out that she had made a bet with Jack about who could seduce him first, she or Jack.  He wore an elegant tuxedo, his dark blond wavy hair slicked back with pomade, and he was aware of the appreciative glances that followed him.  Ennis' heart had secretly quickened at the thought that either of them would find him desirable in that way, but especially that Jack might.   But Jack had been nothing but gracious and polite to him, and Ennis had been a gentleman, quietly observing as he sipped and enjoyed his champagne.  
  
Lorraine Newsome, witty and vivacious, whose seemingly perfect life was blessed with old money, if not the oldest money (her Virginia-born and British descended industrialist and philanthropist great-grandfather was Lander D. Newsome, who had made his fortune in the farm machine business and steel) and the confidence that comes from always getting what she wanted; so much so that even the random sparklings of confetti that fell from above at the lavish parties would fall on her exquisite face, stylishly bobbed hair and smooth, pale shoulders more beautifully than anyone else's, like perfectly-placed beauty marks.   Special people.   From a world that he knew nothing of.   They seemed to have not just more money, but more of everything.  But if she had made that bet, she would lose this time.  
  
She seemed like a nice enough person in every other respect.  The circumstances we are born into in life are not our fault, everyone had their role to play in this world, and Ennis never begrudged anyone their success, but admired it, and the drive and determination it must have taken to get there by the family's ancestor, who not only built something, but completely revolutionized an industry in doing so.  
  
And soon Ennis found that he had more friends than he knew what to do with, from all walks of life.   If it were all to end tomorrow, they might as well enjoy the ride.

 

Back at Jack's Apartment - 1924  
  
"Give me a few minutes, let me shower and change, and I'll be right with you, sport."  Jack said, getting up from the piano.   "Sorry, but the band had a couple of late night gigs this week, and I wanted to get this piece of music in my head down before I forget it."  
  
"It's all right.   I'll just sit right down here and wait."   Ennis smiled and said, as he settled in on Jack's sofa.  
  
After about thirty minutes, Ennis heard nothing, not even the sound of water running.  
  
"Jack?" he called out.    He got up and walked to Jack's bedroom, tentatively knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar.   "Jack?"  
  
He peered in to the room, and there was Jack, lying sprawled out on his back across the bed.   Ennis was concerned that he might have passed out, but no, he just seemed to be overtired.   It looked like he'd only managed to get his shirt off before falling asleep; he was still in his undershirt and trousers.   He touched Jack's cheek, aware of the sensation of Jack's warm skin against his fingers, and Jack stirred at Ennis' touch.   Ennis picked up Jack's tuxedo shirt from off the carpet, shook it out and hung it over the back of a chair.   He watched Jack for a few more minutes to make sure that he was all right.  Jack seemed to be fine, his breathing regular and and even as he continued to sleep.   Ennis shook his head and smiled, and pulled the bed quilt up around him.  _Poor man must be exhausted_. he thought.   Let him sleep it off.   He should be going anyway, and pack for his trip back to Montana.  
  
He went back out into the living room to find a piece of paper so that he could leave Jack a note, but could find nothing.    So he took a blank sheet of Jack's manuscript paper and the pencil and wrote on the back:  
  
_Dear Jack,_  
  
_I had to use a sheet of your music paper to leave you a note, couldn't find anything else.  I hope you don't mind.   Didn't want to wake you._  
  
_Sorry we missed each other this time.   Unfortunately I must leave to  get ready to catch my train in the morning, but I'll see you the next time I'm in town?   We'll get together then.   I'll send a postcard to let you know._  
  
_Sincerely,_  
  
_Your friend,_  
_Edmund (Ned) Delman_  
  
He folded it neatly and set the note with one of his engraved cards up against the music rack where Jack would be sure to see it, and then left, quietly pulling the front door closed behind him, felt the tumbler move in the lock as he reluctantly turned the key.    Then he slipped the key back under the mat where he'd observed that Jack kept it and headed down the stairs.

  

 

 

Jack awoke several hours later, and after a moment's confusion, remembered that he had left Ned waiting in the living room.

"Damn it!"  he exclaimed, berating himself.    How could he have been so thoughtless.  What would his new friend think of him, would he think him too cavalier?   He'd been so tired lately, working hard, staying out too late, too many parties and too much drinking.  He'd better pull himself together.

He walked out into the the living room and saw the note on the piano.    He remembered he had Ned's telephone number at his hotel; he'd try to call him and explain.

"Good afternoon, Blackstone Hotel."

 "Yes, I'd like to speak to one of your guests please, a Mr. Edmund Delman?"  Jack said.

"One moment, Sir."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but Mr. Delman has already left."  he was informed.

Jack realized he didn't even have his address.   In the few moments it took for the front desk to get back to him, Jack had the indistinct recollection that someone, Ned, had been kind enough to look after him, picking up his shirt and covering him with the bed quilt.

_I'll just have to wait to hear from you again, then_.   Jack thought as he hung up the telephone, with a vague sense of disappointment, as if he had let something valuable slip away.

  
_tbc_


	3. As Different as Night and Day

_Summer, 1924_  
  
After spending time in the city, as much as he enjoyed it, Ennis was always ready to come home.   He enjoyed the return trip just as much, when things slowed down, and the air was clean.  He leaned his head towards the opened window of the train, and felt the cool breeze against his cheek, breathed in deeply the fresh mountain air.    His life was as one of the indistinguishable masses of people whose work bore the likes of the Newsomes, and even the Aguirres, of the world up.   But it was okay by him.   He enjoyed his life, and chose to find the happiness in it and the possibilities in it, in even the smallest things, like in the view of the endless blue skies and ocean of cloud formations, prairies and reflections of herds of bison and mountains he watched through the train's window as it passed them.  The things that remained permanent and unchanging, despite mankind's temporal, workaday doings.  Someday, he'd have enough saved for a place of his own back here, and he was confident that what he was doing now wouldn't be forever.   He wondered if someone like Jack, sophisticated and who had felt the need to leave it all behind, could ever be happy again in Wyoming.    He suddenly felt very lonely and longed to be with someone, and wondered if he could ever reveal to Jack who he really was.

It had all started with a handshake.  He had jauntily come over and introduced himself at one of Lorraine's summer parties, on a hot evening in mid-July when the air was heavy with humidity and all of the windows and doors were thrown open to take advantage of any available breeze, and the party guests spilled out from the porticoed entrance to the balustraded terrace, and down the stone steps to the perfectly manicured lawns with their perfectly manicured hedges and gardens for some relief in all that Lake Michigan would give them.   So hot that you'd pray for a thunderstorm, for relief from it, or lose your sense and inhibitions entirely and duck, naked or clothed, into the swimming pool or lake, dizzy with the heat and the champagne and the pleasure of it all, and Ennis, rather than reveal his true name and the nature of what he did for a living, told Jack his name was Edmund, felt the name had an air of distinction to it.   He gave just his first name, but Jack seemed to be waiting for the rest of it in the brief silence that followed, and so he made just a small change to his last name.

"Delman."

Even though the gangsters and bootleggers enjoyed a sort of celebrity status; he didn't know if he really wanted it to be known about him, and being small-time, he'd hardly qualify for that anyway, and any of the speculation that would go along with it.   And it was still Prohibition and illegal, so he couldn't risk leading a path straight to Aguirre's door.   He hadn't expected it to go beyond that first superficial meeting, just a light-hearted thing, not meant to be an untruth, but he was in it too deep now.   He'd met and spoken with Jack several times since, and Jack had even invited him back to his apartment.    Things hadn't been progressing exactly as he had hoped, they just couldn't seem to get the timing right, or something always interfered; and the last time Jack even fell asleep on him.   Any other man might have given up at that point, but Ennis was not deterred, convinced that there would be a next time to remedy the situation, and that there was something there that was worth it.   He knew Jack hadn't meant anything by it, but truly had had an exhaustive schedule.   He'd have to send him a postcard, because Jack had no way of reaching him; that is, if he even still wanted to.  
  
"An Elegant Young Roughneck"

After the band's first set, Jack took a break to stretch his legs, and to say hello to Lorraine and a few friends.   He strode out onto to the terrace, where attentive waiters carried glasses of champagne on silver trays.  He noticed a young man he hadn't seen before as he made his way over to snag a glass of champagne.   Tall, blond hair, and rather striking looking, excruciatingly polite.  If he had to guess his age, probably not quite twenty-five; same as him.   He walked over to introduce himself.  
  
"Hello.  I'm John, John Twist."  
  
Jack held out his hand, and the man looked up and met Jack's gaze with brown eyes for a moment.  
  
"Edmund.  Ned, actually.  Hello."  
  
And with a shy smile and a reserve that Jack found extremely beautiful and rare, he took Jack's hand in his, and they shook hands.   Jack noticed Ned's well-tended hands were slightly rough, but felt warm and pleasant.   Ennis then realized Jack was one of the musicians, the pianist.

"I'm enjoying the music tonight.   The band's very good.  You're very good."

"Well, thank you.  We aim to please."   Jack said, playfully teasing him.

"So you're a fan of jazz, this crazy thing we try to pass off as music?"

"Yes."  Ennis said, chuckling softly, relaxing.    Jack had a way of putting people at ease, but if Ennis had been uncomfortable, he never let it show.    Edmund was very charming.

It was the height of summer.  They talked for a bit longer, enjoying the last fiery light of the sun before it disappeared, bringing the coolness of evening, even got around to a little bit more about music, until Jack had to get back on stage for the band's second set.   The outdoor lights came up and glowed from the surrounding arborvitae and gardens, illuminating the terrace.   A singer was being announced by the name of Alma de Beers.   The night was rich with the possibilities, connections to be made or not, as guests enjoyed their cocktails and chatter.

"Is that . . . ?" "

"The one and only."   Jack said and smiled at him again, wonderfully refreshing and cool to him, as Ennis recognized the famous star of film and stage.

"Well, I've got to get back.  Good to meet you, we'll see each other again sometime, I hope.   Enjoy the rest of the night."

"You bet."   Ennis said, forgetting his composure for a moment, and took Jack's hand again.  
  
_tbc_


	4. Speakeasy, Part I

September, 1924  


"There's a message for you, sir."

"Yes?"

Ennis looked up after signing the hotel registration card, and the reception clerk handed him an envelope, and then gave the bellman his room key, who promptly took Ennis' bags.    Ennis followed him across the richly appointed lobby with its gilded French walnut paneling and marble floors, the whispers of ceiling fans turning above.  Past potted palms and exotic tropical blooms, a grand staircase, a billiards table where he caught a faint whiff of cigar smoke, to the elevators and up to his room.  
  
_"From the rich side a town, ain't ya?"  the taxi driver had inquired, appraising him, after dropping him off at the hotel and getting his suitcases._  
  
Ennis had just stared at him blankly, incredulous; if he only knew how poor Ennis' family had been as he was growing up.  
  
"No."  he replied, almost stoically, but he gave the man a generous tip.  
  
When he got to his room, after switching on the lamp and opening the drapes so that he could look out over the view of the city and the lake, Ennis sat down on the bed, turned the envelope over in his hands, hesitating to open it because he recognized the handwriting.   It was Jack's.  What would it say.   It might not be what he was hoping for, but then again . . .  
  
He lay back against the pillows, considering it, enjoying the sweetness of the uncertainty.   He was tired from the trip, but at the same time infused with an excited energy because he had heard from him.  
  
_During the summer, they would sometimes take walks together down to the lakeshore, across the boardwalk to the windswept sand dunes that shone like snowdrifts in the moonlight, to a secluded spot where they could have a few minutes to talk and be alone, Jack with his tie loosened and his jacket slung over one shoulder.   Jack would lean in close to him, what seemed now close enough to share a secret with him or to kiss him, or maybe it was only that Ennis had wanted him to, and the music and voices of Lorraine's parties had seemed miles away.    He'd gone to a jazz performance at the Chicago Theater with Jack, been given a tour of the city, and to dinners out together with his new circle of friends.   He'd sat at Jack's piano with him, laughing and singing together as he picked out by ear and learned, with a little help from Jack, a few notes of some simple pieces they both knew and liked, their fingers touching briefly, or with an arm around each other's shoulders._  
  
Finally, he tore it open, his hands trembling slightly, to read, written in Jack's carefree, breezy manner:

 _Dear Ned,_  
   
_Received your postcard -  I'm so sorry about the last time you visited, what you must think of me!_  
  
_Anyway, I hope you'll let me make it up to you.  If you have time in your schedule, we can go down to the club, and let me take you to dinner._  
  
_Until I see you again,_

 _Jack_  
  
_tbc_


	5. Speakeasy, Part II - "Thou Swell"

Lorraine was wearing a peridot-colored beaded silk chiffon gown, with a raised diamond pattern embroidered over it, and a jeweled evening cap headpiece that made her look like an Egyptian queen, or Theda Bara, which was all the rage.    She was in the company of an attractive woman he recognized from somewhere, in the society pages in the newspapers maybe, then in sporty dress, Ennis couldn't exactly recall where, her constant companion these days.

  _Late September, 1924_  
  
The air was cooler now with a light frost the night before, which meant summer was definitely over.   No more warm days that, for a little while, promised to bring it back.   Ennis always felt a little sad at that, until autumn came into its own.   This time might not come again.  
  
Back at his suite at the Blackstone, he lit a fire in the fireplace.    Jack was going to pick him up for dinner and a night at the club, and he wanted to be sure the rooms were warm and comfortable, in case Jack might want to come up for a drink.  

Ennis wasn't sure where to start.   It was all so new to him.   He wasn't sure about how to approach someone he wanted like this.   What else could he do but take a chance; he wasn't afraid.   A little anxious with anticipation to begin maybe, but not afraid.   And he knew now he wasn't the only one.   At the speakeasy he'd gone to with Jack, there were men and women, men and men, women and women together, kissing and dancing with complete abandon.   He poured himself a drink, took it to the window and looked out over the city again, and checked his watch, for what seemed like the hundredth time.    Then the phone rang; it was Jack, calling from the house phone in  the lobby, and Ennis invited him to come up.

After a few minutes, he heard a knock at the door. 

Ennis opened it, saw Jack leaning there against the doorfame, dapper as always, looking back at him expectantly - and as eagerly and as hopefully as he was.

"Come in." Ennis said, his heart pounding.

And as the door clicked shut, he didn't know what came over him, and then he and Jack were kissing, falling back up against the door, hard.

 _What about dinner_....Jack whispered between kisses to Ennis' lips and face, slipping off his jacket, and Ennis moaned softly _what about it_ as their hands made their way over each other's bodies, Ennis unbuttoning Jack's shirt and unfastening his cuff links, and then to Jack's belt, no instruction needed.   The bed had been turned down, now warmed by the fire.  
  
And after, they lay in each others arms, silver tray from room service on a nearby table, Jack sitting up and leaning back against the headboard nuzzling Ennis' hair and dreamily blowing smoke from a cigarette, Ennis resting his head on Jack's strong, muscled chest, spent and happy, quieted by a sense of how strong it was, what they'd just experienced together.

 

Ennis followed as Jack led the way to his favorite little neighborhood luncheonette for breakfast - Bisbee's Corner Cafe, with a sign posted in the window that said 'Breakfast Served All Day'.   Ennis joked that it was a good thing, with Jack's night owl hours.   It was about two o'clock in the afternoon the next day.  Jack just chuckled.    The air smelled like fall, autumn leaves.   They walked, close together, invigorated by the cool fall air, and warmed by having spent the night together.   As they entered, the owners (his landlord and landlady?) waved hello to Jack.   _This must be one of Jack's favorite places_ , Ennis thought, pleased that Jack would share it with him.

As sophisticated as he was, Jack could be very down-to-earth, which Ennis liked, a lot.  Of course, Jack got the full breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, home-fried potatoes, toast and jam, and Ennis got the meatloaf, buttered mashed potatoes, and a slice of apple pie, à la mode.   Over mugs of hot coffee, they discussed the surprise, how Jack had planned to make up for that time he had fallen asleep during Ennis' visit, not that Ennis had felt it was necessary to make anything up, especially after the events of last night.   A week away - seven whole days - at Lorraine's family's exclusive hunting club lodge, Jack told him as he generously poured ketchup over his fried potatoes, at her suggestion, at the Pine River in the Huron Mountains.   She sometimes would invite close friends to stay as her guests when it wasn't being used by family.    She had become a good friend.    Ennis was very excited about it.  
  
"Remind me to thank her when I see her again.  She has my undying gratitude."

"Bring your riding clothes."   Jack said.   "And your fishing gear!"  
  
Riding clothes for Ennis back home meant well-worn cowboy boots and jeans.   Here he would wear charcoal grey wool flannel riding pants and tall, English-style brown leather field boots, and a heavy tan woolen cable-knit pullover sweater over a light blue collared Oxford shirt, his blond curls left casual and unstyled, and he looked just as dashing a figure in the English saddle.

They rode until they were breathless in the cool fall air, with no restraint, for miles as their horses ambled and galloped across the meadows and over the riding trails, and taking them jumping over narrow streams and old fences.  The vegetation of the summer had died back, but replaced with the goldenrod and wild aster of the fall.  Ennis was a wonderfully skilled horseman, and it made Jack feel a bittersweet remembering of back home.    They took quiet walks together, spent evenings by the fire in their cabin or out to dinner at the elegantly rustic restaurant, or picnics in the grass after canoeing on Ives Lake, went fishing.  
  
They hunted birds and other game in the uplands, but without much intent of getting anything, rambling through old-growth forest of hemlock and white pine and paper birch, in conservation land named for Lorraine's grandfather; they were much more interested in being together and enjoying each other's company.   They watched the sun go down over the marshlands until the last bit was gone, and it got dark early this time of year.

Ennis thought he'd never had such a wonderful time, felt that he could paw the white out of the moon.   Lying together on a blanket in the grass during a picnic lunch of sandwiches, slices of cake and a thermos bottle of some much welcomed hot tea near the lake one cool afternoon, with Jack resting his head in Ennis's lap, Jack reached up to touch him, suddenly blurting out "I love you!" which took Ennis by pleasant surprise and off his feet for a bit, but later he told Jack he loved him too and realized he had for some time now.    Ennis felt he could confide anything to Jack; but he stopped short of telling him everything.

 

_tbc_


	6. Speakeasy, Part III - Counterpoint, Questions and Answers

They walked the horses back to the barn, cooling them down.   Ennis proceeded in to get ready to wash down the horses after their ride, removing the saddle, checking the hooves.    It was something he always did after a ride, and he found it relaxing.

"They have groomsmen for that, you  know."  Jack said, picking up a curry comb and coming over to join him.

"I know."  Ennis said softly, now brushing the horse's dark chestnut coat, finishing it to a high gleam and speaking to him gently as he did, appearing to be thinking about something.   This horse's name was Badir, for his fine, part-Arabian lineage.

Over dinner, Jack had wondered just what it was that Ned wasn't telling him, and he got the distinct impression that there was something, and that there was more to this beautiful, good and decent man that he had gotten to know and had fallen in love with, because he knew that was who he was, deep inside, even if it hadn't been said in so many words.   Jack had taken a sip of his red wine, chewing over the question, and realized this was the first time he'd had a drink since they arrived at the lodge, and he hadn't missed it.  He decided to confront Ned about it at the next opportunity.

"What's your address, Ned?"   Jack asked him.  "I know you live in Montana, but where exactly?  Wouldn't it be nice to keep in touch after you go back home?   Do you have a telephone where you live?  I'd like to telephone you once in awhile, hear your voice.   I miss you when we're apart.  Don't you?"  
  
Ennis led Badir back to his stall, gave him some hay.  
  
"What is it?   You killed a man?   You're part of Frank Nitti's Outfit?  You're a traitor, a spy for the Germans in the War?"   Jack asked, teasing Ned, smiling as he thought of of some of the more amusing and outlandish rumors he had heard about the enigmatic Edmund.

Finally, Ennis spoke.

"Yes."

"What, then?"  Jack pressed onward.   "What's the big secret?"  
  
_tbc_

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for the 2013 Summer Challenge -'It Started With A Handshake'.
> 
> Disclaimer: Brokeback Mountain characters and any story references belong to Annie Proulx and/or Focus Features.


End file.
